Forced to Kill

“Damn straight.”

“He drowned him, Harv.”

“Don’t worry, we’re going skin him alive for that.”

“Let’s get back in there.”

Salk stared as they reentered the room. Respectfully, Grangeland didn’t.

“Doctor, Special Agent Grangeland, please accept my apology. I’m not used to seeing this sort of thing.”

“It’s an understandable reaction,” Salk said. “This is an exceptionally bad case. Would you like some water?”

“Thank you, no.” When Salk turned toward the body, he mouthed I’m okay to Grangeland.

Her expression held genuine concern, but she didn’t react.

He appreciated her discretion and took a closer look at the body, pointing at several pairs of dark spots between the knife cuts. “Doctor, what are those marks?” He already knew the answer, all too well.

“They’re from a stun gun. Based on the pole spacing and the degree of discoloration, we think it’s from a King Cobra police model. Packs quite a punch, nine hundred thousand volts. The body has twenty-two sets of marks. I put a rush on all the lab work. We should have the results tomorrow afternoon.”

Grangeland handed Dr. Salk a business card. “When the results come back, will you call me right away?”

“Yes, I can have the reports faxed to your field office.”

No one spoke for several seconds.

Dr. Salk broke the silence. “Mr. McBride, have you seen this before?”

“What, a dead body?”

“This exact kind of trauma.”

He locked eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Your reaction. I just had a feeling you recognized it.”

Harv stepped forward. “We do recognize it. We saw photographs a couple days ago.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I’m sorry.”

Yeah, Doc, you did. “No harm done,” Nathan said. “I might’ve asked the same thing in your shoes.” He forced a smile. “I probably looked like I saw a ghost.”

“That’s a pretty fair description.”

Distraction time. “Do you ever get used to it? I mean, you know…”

“Working with the dead? I enjoy my work, although truth be told, I’m not as involved with postmortem examinations as I used to be. As the ME, my job involves more administrative work now. I made an exception here. Now that I’ve had a chance to study this case in depth, I’d have to say this man wasn’t a victim of a ritual killing. I believe he was interrogated.”

“Interrogated? You mean for information? Like that?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Although it looks like a serial killer’s signature, the pathology of most serials involves ritual to some degree or another. In this case, for example, the crisscrossing diagonal cuts seem to suggest the pattern has meaning to the killer. Why else would he or she do it? We may never know the significance of the diamond pattern, but I guarantee it would have a significant meaning to a serial killer. With me so far?”

Nathan nodded.

“Then we seem to have a contradiction. The killer marred the untouched diamonds of skin by using a stun gun on them. It would be like a killer applying makeup to a dead woman’s face and then purposefully smearing it. Granted, there are no absolutes, and there are always exceptions, and this could be one of them, but I feel the stun gun was used on the diamonds of skin to inflict maximum pain, not as part of a ritual. Because the nerve endings surrounding the incisions were frayed, burned, and exposed, the electricity would’ve been excruciatingly painful. Hypothetically speaking, if this man knew what his killer wanted, he gave it up. Something else. Serial killers rarely leave their victims alive before disposing of them.”

“Your knowledge of serial killers is impressive,” Harv said.

“At the risk of sounding morbid, they’re often most interesting and challenging cases, but they’re also extremely rare.” Salk looked at Grangeland, then back to Harv. “The FBI uses the information medical examiners discover to help formulate profiles of serials. I had my assistant do a database search and there aren’t any cases like this in our system, even for as long as we’ve kept records.” Salk looked at Grangeland. “Even your FBI has nothing like this in its ViCAP national database. We seem to have a unique case here. A special agent from Quantico’s behavior analysis unit two is flying out here tomorrow to examine at the body.”

“Okay, thank you, Doctor,” Grangeland said. “I think we’ve taken enough of your time. I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure, name it.”

“Will you please keep our visit here confidential?”

Nathan had completely forgotten about that.

“If you folks don’t want anyone to know you were here, that’s fine with me. But I have a request of my own.” He turned toward Nathan, but addressed all of them. “It’s quite obvious that you know more about this case than you’re giving up. When you’re able, I’d appreciate you sharing it with me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Nathan stepped forward and pumped hands. “You don’t miss much.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time.” Dr. Salk looked down to Nathan’s chest, then back to his eyes.

Doesn’t miss much at all.

They arrived in San Diego after dark, fatigued from the flight. Holly had arranged a rental sedan for Grangeland’s use. Everyone parted company for the evening.

His Clairemont home felt welcoming as Nathan plopped down on his couch and thought about the day’s events, especially his close call at the medical examiner’s office. He hated being so vulnerable, especially in front of strangers and especially after all these years. Hadn’t he moved beyond this? He stood and began pacing, then picked up his TV remote and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall next to the front door and exploded.

Great job, Nate. Way to control your temper.

Even without Harv’s advice, he knew what he needed. He needed time with his giant schnauzers, Grant and Sherman. Besides, his La Jolla home was empty now. On his insistence-and dime-his live-in housekeeper had taken a much-needed vacation to Maui. Angelica would’ve left plenty of food for them, but they’d miss human companionship.

He grabbed his car keys from the kitchen counter and avoided looking at the scattered pieces of plastic and computer chips littering his floor.

At that moment, his phone rang. Holly. He considered letting it go to voicemail.

“Hi, Holly.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You back home?”

“Yes.”

He sensed unease on the other end.

“Want to talk?”

“My TV remote lost an argument.”

“I’ve got tons of vacation time accumulated.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking.”

“I’m okay, really.”

“I’m still coming down there.”

“I’ll come get you.”